A Split Second
by Julia Claire
Summary: It was only a split second of mercy, a tiny blunder, but the Dark Lord never forgave, not really. Written for the Hogwarts Online Forum.


**A/N: Written for the Hogwarts Online Prompt of the Day, "Blunder." **

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize isn't mine.**

"Stand back," he called, hoping they couldn't hear the fear in his voice. "Stand away from the door. I am coming in."

He waved his wand and the door opened. To his suprise, there was no one there. Sick to his stomach, he was about to turn around to tell his master the news. He knew he'd be in trouble - the Dark Lord _always_ killed the messenger. Or at least injured him.

And then, out of nowhere, the Weasley brat and the Potter boy jumped on him. They clawed at him, stuffing a hand over his mouth so he couldn't breathe or yell for help. Peter fought back. He tried to send a spell at them, but all that came out of his wand were tiny flashes of light. Abandoning magic, he reached out his beautiful silver hand and grabbed the Potter boy by the throat.

He squeezed, and it felt good. Powerful. Like he was the Dark Lord himself, instead of stinking Wormtail.

"What is it, Wormtail?" he heard Lucius Malfoy call in that lofty, condecending tone that Peter hated. Like Lucius was any better than him, especially now.

Still, Peter wasn't picky when it came to who he'd let save his life. He would've called back if Potter's hand hadn't still been clamped on his mouth.

"Nothing! All fine!" the Weasley brat called back in a wheezy voice that would've made Peter cringe if he hadn't been struggling for his life. Surely he didn't sound like _that_?

He squeezed the Potter boy's neck harder.

"You're going to kill me?" the boy choked, making a vain attempt to unclasp Peter's fingers. "After I saved your life? You owe me, Wormtail!"

He hated that name, usually, when the other Death Eaters used it.

When the boy said, though... Peter almost liked it. It was almost as though he'd gone back in time, as though it was _James_ who was talking to him. James, once, one of his best friends...

James, who was dead, because of Peter's betrayal. James, whose son that had shown mercy on the man who had killed his father...

And it was like he had the choice again - to murder James or to sacrifice himself. Peter was not a martyr, not a saint. He was a stinking, scurrying, garbage-eating rat. So the choice, as it had been before, was obvious.

But he couldn't do it, not again. Because even rats couldn't live forever on fear and spite alone.

It was only a split second of mercy, a split second of being a Maurader again, a split second of loosening his hold on James's son.

It was only a split second of defiance to the Dark Lord, but Peter knew his master would know, because he always did.

It was only a tiny blunder, but the Dark Lord never forgave, not really.

Suddenly, his silver hand was pulling away from the Potter boy, seemingly of its own free will.

Peter was both utterly confused and utterly terrified.

The Weasley brat grabbed his wand from him, whispering something indistinguishable. Peter didn't care about his wand anymore - he was more concerned with his own hand.

His hand, his beautiful silver right hand, a gift from the Dark Lord, in exchange for his mutilated, flesh-and-blood one. Peter had been happy with the switch at first, in awe of his master's generosity. Now he saw that there had been no generosity - it was all part of a plan, so that if Peter ever stopped following orders -

_Please_, Peter thought desperately, struggling harder now as his own fingers made their way towards his throat. _I'll kill him, I swear... Have mercy, master!_

"No - " James's son said, horrified, grabbing Peter's hand and trying to pull it backwards.

"No!" the Weasley brat - Ron, Peter thought dimly, his old owner - took hold of the hand as well, but it was no use...

The fingers were squeezing at his throat, even more tightly than Peter had been squeezing Harry's. The world was spinning around him...

The only thing Peter had left was his life, his survival, his ability to save his own damn skin. Now, he realises, he'll die with nothing, just another dead rat that no one will mourn.

And just before it all went black, Peter saw Harry clearly once more, saw James's untidy black hair and Lily's beautiful green eyes...

He fell to his knees and gave a last, final twitch, wondering if his split second of mercy had been a blunder or a deliverance.


End file.
